


Glitter in the Air

by Cup_aTea



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BDSM in original storyline, Clint Sings, Feelings, Fluff, M/M, Phil has feels, but none in this fic, that's it that's the story, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:56:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1257070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cup_aTea/pseuds/Cup_aTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil makes it to the bar just in time to catch the end of Clint's set.  And Clint's been waiting for him to show.</p><p>  <i>Set in Raiining's Underground verse.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Glitter in the Air

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Underground](https://archiveofourown.org/works/660977) by [raiining](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiining/pseuds/raiining). 



> Set in Raiining's 'The Underground' verse. You do not necessarily have to read that first for this to make sense (although I 100% recommend it!), but it will give you more feelings about their situation.
> 
> Unbeta'd. Title and lyrics from Pink's 'Glitter in the Air.' Characters belong to Marvel & Raiining.

When Phil walked into the bar the singer on stage was strumming through a verse of an old Kink’s song, head thrown back while he sang along. Phil scanned the crowd for his friends and finally spotted them in a booth off to the left of the stage. They were crowded together: Candice and Derrick on one end and Terry and Brian swiveled in their seats to watch the stage. He stopped at the bar for a scotch and then wound his way through the tables until he reached them.

 

“Phil, it’s good to see you!” Candice said. She patted Derrick on the thigh and he slid further into the tight booth, making room for Coulson at the end of the seat. “We were afraid you wouldn’t make it.”

 

“Unexpected crisis in the filing department that couldn’t wait for Monday,” Phil said, smiling blandly. “Thank you for coming to cheer him on; I was afraid I was going to miss it all together.”

 

“Of course. It’s been a pleasure. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said he could sing,” Candice said.

 

Clint, on stage with his guitar, finished one last howling chorus of “Lola” before the bar broke out into clapping. Phil smiled at the couple of wolf whistles he heard from the crowd.

 

Phil caught Clint looking at him from the stage, his eyesight superhuman even under the glare of the bar’s little spotlight. There was a half smile on his lips as he set down the guitar and stood, reaching for the mic.

 

“Well, I’ve got one more song for you guys. I’m not going to play for you—I’ve just got a little bit of accompaniment on my ipod that the sound guy’s going to patch through.” He gave a little nod to the back of the room. “Just this last one and then you can have your open mic back. This is one is about…well, you guys are pretty smart. You’ll figure it out.”

 

There was a momentary pause, followed by a click as the sound system was adjusted. And then the quiet piano of Pink’s “Glitter in the Air” sounded through the bar.

 

Clint clasped the mic in both hands and rocked back on his heels. That intense gaze was suddenly focused inward and miles away.

 

_Have you ever fed a lover with just your hands?_

_Closed your eyes and trusted, just trusted?_

 

Clint was singing quietly, but strongly into the mic. It sent his voice to all corners of the bar, and the crowd was hushing to listen. Phil was oblivious to all of it, watching Clint sing from some very private corner of his soul.

 

He had heard Clint sing before, certainly. In the shower, on the jet, over the comms during frustratingly long ops. Barton and Sitwell had long-standing bets on karaoke nights about who could win over more of the crowd. Clint was the sort of person who mumbled a tune to himself while he was waiting in line at the grocery store. But Phil had rarely heard him sing like this. Like the song was something so important to him, he couldn’t keep it inside.

 

_Have you ever hated yourself for staring at the phone?_

_Your whole life waiting on the ring to prove you’re not alone._

_Have you ever been touched so gently, you had to cry?_

_Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside?_

Clint met Phil’s gaze and held it as he sang out the chorus. As the words sank in, Phil felt his throat tighten with emotion. Clint was up there, singing with his heart on his sleeve, and it was all for Phil, as if there was no one else was in the room. Phil swallowed with difficulty, and his hands clenched under the table as he listened to Clint’s voice rise and soar through the last refrain.

 

Phil was standing before the applause had barely started and he watched as Clint gave a quiet “thank you,” into the mic and turned away from his audience. And then Phil was heading across the bar, following Clint out the side entrance and into the alley. Clint turned as soon as he hit the open air and Phil had him in his arms, and he was kissing the breath out of him. Clint moaned against his lips and melted against his arms, and Phil was never going to let him go and was never going to stop kissing him.

 

“Sorry I was late,” Phil said when they broke apart for air.

 

“It’s okay. You made it for the important part.” Clint was grinning at him easily, eyes crinkling around the edges.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” And then Phil was kissing him again, his fingers buried in the leather of Clint’s jacket. And Clint was kissing him back like he never wanted Phil to let go.

 

Clint pulled away reluctantly. “I should go in. My guitar’s in there and I want to thank Candice and Terry for coming.”

 

Phil sighed fondly, resting his forehead against Clint’s. “I should really praise your good manners, but all I want to do is take you home and get you in my bed.”

 

Clint groaned. “Yes please.” He tilted his chin to give Phil a quick kiss. “I’ll grab my guitar, and you give our excuses to our friends. I’ll make sure I thank them later.”

 

“Good,” Phil said lowly, pressing one more kiss to that mouth. “You have two minutes,” he added, squeezing Clint’s wrist warningly.

 

“Sir, yes sir,” Clint said with a cheeky salute. Phil watched him walk back into the bar and smiled in the chill night air.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I loved Raiining's Underground as soon as I started reading it, and it stuck with me. Shortly after I read it, I heard Pink's Glitter in the Air, and it immediately struck me as Clint's song to Phil. I wrote half of this in one go, months ago, and decided I needed to finish it. I hope this little tribute can do the original justice.


End file.
